


Games Brothers Play

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindfolds, Community: spnkink_meme, Dubious Consent, M/M, Manhandling, Rape Fantasy, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's had this idea for a while.</p>
<p>Dean takes some persuading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games Brothers Play

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> Before you venture any further this one might straddle the line between con and dub-con as there are moments where it's hard for Sam to tell whether Dean remains fully on board with this or not, despite extensive pre-planning and discussion. Sam lets his darker side out to play for a bit in this one. I wrote it fast as a oneshot so apologies for any errors (let me know please if you spot any and I'll fix them, thanks).
> 
> Written for an SPN Kink Meme prompt (details of the prompt at the end)..

He was careful in how and when he brought it up to Dean, had to be; this is a long way off quick fucks in the back of the Impala or long hours spent exploring each other when they’re between hunts and have some downtime in a motel room somewhere.

But he knows, at heart, that Dean will go with it. Dean’s never really refused him anything, and he won’t refuse him this. Not just because it’s him – if that was what truly lay behind Dean’s agreement, Sam would drop the whole damn thing – but because he’s seen how Dean is, sometimes.

The hint of flush to his skin when Sam moves him, sometimes. The way his teeth catch his bottom lip and his eyes go wide and things seem to hang on that moment…all because Sam leans into him, uses his weight to hold him in place, or whispers with a rough voice to stay just where he is.

So he already has it all laid out in his head once Dean says yes. Now there’s just the when and where and that chance comes along sooner than he expects.

The call from Bobby’s a little out of the blue; an old friend in Philadelphia’s run into some trouble she can’t handle without help, so Bobby’s going. He just wants someone to mind the store while he’s away – he reckons a week, tops, and he figures the brothers could use some breathing space behind permanent wards in a house with decent beds and a well-stocked fridge.

But whatever they drink out of his liquor they damn well better replace.

Sam jumps on the offer like his life depends on it, and that night they start the long drive back to the yard.

After Bobby heads out, Dean cooks. It’s simple fare, some bacon and eggs, a little toast, but it’s way better than takeout burgers and fries. Afterwards, they find ways to shake off the road and the tension – nose around Bobby’s bookshelves to see what else he’s acquired since they were last there, make a passable attempt at fixing the broken boards on the porch that look like something heavy was dropped on them, even watch a movie after a brief argument over what they had or hadn’t watched last time they were here.

By the time the end credits are rolling up the screen, Sam’s ready. He grabs the remote and flicks the set off, and then turns to look down at Dean. His brother’s sprawled carelessly on the sofa, face relaxed and as near carefree as Sam’s seen him in some time.

He wonders if it has to be now, but figures it not then Dean will soon let him know.

“Dean.”

Dean seems to take a moment to notice the movie’s over, the TV turned off. “Sam?”

“I want you upstairs, Dean. Now.”

Dean sits up slowly, straightens, and suddenly his frame is tense. He ducks his head; his fingers fold over the back of his neck, squeezing and releasing like his muscles have knotted themselves together.

Sam feels like a door’s slamming on him. It hadn’t been an instant agreement from Dean; there had been this same uncertainty in him and Sam gets it, he does. Dean isn’t great at giving up control. He’s alpha male through and through, so no matter how much he might want this he’s still reluctant.

Then Sam had promised Dean he’d make it good, that this could be good for both of them. That it wouldn’t change anything.

He knows there’s no point in repeating those words, because Dean won’t have forgotten. All he can do is what he does; he squats down so he’s between Dean’s legs and close enough that he knows Dean can feel his breath on his skin.

“Look at me, Dean.”

It takes a moment, but Dean raises his head and Sam locks eyes with him. 

“You know you can trust me, right?”

“Fuck, Sam, you know I do!”

“So we’ll keep exactly to what we talked about. And you can stop it at any time, Dean. Any time.”

There’s still a war going in within Dean, but finally he relents. Sam straightens and stands, stepping back, letting Dean get up by himself. They’re not there, not yet, so he doesn’t dog Dean’s steps as his brother climbs the stairs to the second floor; he makes sure he keeps a fair distance, even if he closes it down as Dean gets near to the bedroom that’s theirs.

He lets Dean open the door, because this is important – as much an acknowledgement that Dean is still ok with this as his words.

When Sam follows him in, and closes the door behind them, Dean turns around and the look on his face nearly causes Sam to come undone then and there.

Dean looks nervous but there’s no hiding the want on his face. Now they’re here, he’s ready.

So is Sam.

He’d snuck up here earlier, made what few preparations were required. He doesn’t want anything to stall, wants this to be controlled and by the numbers. His brother’s just put himself in Sam’s hands, again, and he has no intention of betraying that trust.

Everything has to be exactly as Sam laid out, no surprises, nothing Dean hasn’t had a chance to ready himself for.

He turns Dean around, and slips the blindfold out of his pocket. Dean makes a noise as he wraps the dark fabric around Dean’s eyes, knots it carefully behind his head, causing Sam to still briefly and then lean in.

“Ok?” he says. His voice is low, like maybe Bobby might have snuck in and be sleeping over his trip in the next room.

Dean nods, causing Sam to drop a hand onto his brother’s shoulder and squeeze hard. “I need to hear you say it, Dean.”

“Shit, yeah, I’m ok, Sam. Just…let’s get going, ok?”

Sam lets his head sink forward, his forehead coming to rest in Dean’s hair. He’s waited so long for this, he’s so grateful to Dean for even contemplating it never mind agreeing that he actually isn’t sure he can do it now.

But Dean’s worked himself up to this, and Sam will not let all of that be for nothing.

So he raises his head and whispers in Dean’s ear. “I’m going to put you on the bed. I don’t care if you try to fight me, I don’t care how much noise you make. There’s nobody else here. There’s absolutely nothing you can do about this except take everything I’m going to give you.”

He gives Dean a shove that somehow catches him off balance. He recovers within a couple of steps and reaches out on impulse until his fingers find the edge of the mattress. Then his defiance seems to kick in, and he starts to turn.

Sam’s on him before he can, giving him another shove – harder, this time – that sends Dean thumping back onto the mattress. He gives a startled whuff as the air is driven out of him, but his reflexes are good; he’s already pushing himself back up, trying to roll away from where he estimates Sam to be, one hand reaching for the blindfold.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam warns, and gets close enough to flip Dean over. He climbs on the bed, uses his weight to pin Dean down, making sure his face is turned to the side so he can breathe. “This is where I want you. Just like this.”

He tugs down Dean’s denim jacket until it’s bunched around his forearms. It makes an excellent impromptu restraint, as long as he can keep the material bunched in his hand. Dean’s struggles make that difficult, but he’s been in many a wrestling match with his older brother. For a while, Dean always won out. 

Then Sam didn’t so much grow as explode and after that their little contests only went one way.

So Dean might struggle, but like this he isn’t going anywhere.

It’s a little harder to wrestle Dean’s jeans down without Sam taking his weight off of him, but Sam’s had a lifetime of fighting things that don’t want to be pinned or taken down. He knows how to make it work, and he does, dragging Dean’s pants and boxers until there’re tight around his knees.

It just makes it harder for Dean to keep struggling, but it doesn’t stop him. 

But though he can hear Dean’s breathing and grunts of strain as he fights, Sam hasn’t heard any words yet. He pauses, not sure if that’s a good sign or not. Still, he hasn’t said anything else either, so maybe Dean’s just following his lead.

He has to be sure.

He leans down, trying not to put any extra pressure on Dean’s wrists or back with the movement, until his lips are next to his brother’s ear. “Dean. Talk to me.”  
He can see the stubborn set to Dean’s jaw, and it makes him start to pull back because if there’s one thing he knows it’s that Dean might try to push through this if he thinks Sam wants it badly enough.

Then Dean speaks, the words rough and low and honest, and if Sam was turned on by this whole idea before this just turns that spark of lust into something that threatens to burn right through him.

“Get the fuck off of me, you asshole.”

Dean knows how to stop this with a word, and it was none of those.

There’s lube in Sam’s pocket. He takes it out and puts it on top of the blanket before he fights to get his own pants down enough. Then he manages to flick the tube open and slick his fingers up good even though he has to do it one handed.

He lets his hand settle on Dean’s ass, just so he knows what’s coming, and then circles his hole with just a fingertip.

Dean stills, briefly, like he isn’t sure he actually feels that light touch but then he bucks and snarls, and he actually nearly manages to unseat Sam.

Sam raises his hand and delivers two sharp swats to Dean’s ass, enough to colour the skin and have his brother cursing. But though he still struggles, it’s less fervent than before and that lets Sam slip one finger in. 

He doesn’t do it in stages, just slides it home and Dean strains against him.

“Don’t you…. Get that out of me. What the fuck!”

Sam has to hand it to Dean; it’s one thing playing FBI or CDC at a crime scene, but it’s another to keep to the character he’s playing when Sam has a finger in his ass. A finger he crooks just so, knowing he’s hit the spot when Dean actually whines and seizes up around him.

“Gonna make you love it,” Sam warns, and slips a second finger in alongside the first. 

He spends the next few minutes working Dean, probably more than he has to, just to make him pant and squirm and curse using words that turn even Sam’s face pink. Up until then, he’d thought he’d heard every swearword in Dean’s arsenal.

But not one of those words is the word that will stop this in its tracks, so Sam doesn’t let up. He does the opposite. 

He slips his fingers out, and though the angle is awkward and uncomfortable since he doesn’t dare let go of Dean’s jacket, he’s limber and long limbed enough to manage it. He scoots back and adjusts his angle until he can bring his mouth to Dean’s hole without feeling like his neck will crack.

The first tentative touch of his tongue stills Dean again, and he can feel Dean trying to figure it out. Sam had told him of this – there isn’t a single thing he’s done or he’s going to that they didn’t discuss – but he can’t blame Dean if right now he’s so caught up in the moment, so overwhelmed by what’s happening that he’s probably not sure what’s touching him.

He’ll figure it out though. And he does, just as Sam licks his way around the rim, pushes just the tip of his tongue past the ring of muscle.  
Dean almost bucks off the bed, but Sam’s ready and uses his body weight and his other arm to brace Dean, to keep him down.

It’s tricky, but he manages, and all Dean can do is what Sam promised. 

Take it.

But it’s not the most comfortable of positions, so Sam relents and after a grazing bite that draws a yelp from Dean, he sits back up and spread some more lube on his hand. He fists himself hard and fast, and then leans over enough so he’s nudging Dean’s hole.

“You’re going to feel this,” he says, and then pushes his way in.

He’s big, and normally he’d settle and give Dean a chance to adjust. But this isn’t normally and so he doesn’t. He shoves for home, and then pulls almost all the way out before just thrusting straight back in. That sets the pace; he’s almost fucking Dean up the bed, and he isn’t sure whose noises are turning him on more.

Dean’s: grunts, breathless whines, interspersed with threats and the occasional plea.

Or his own: his breathing shallow, like his lungs won’t expand enough, his heart thudding away inside him so loud that he’s sure Dean must be able to hear it too. The slick sound he makes as he rides Dean hard enough to know he’s going to feel it later, tomorrow, the day after. Hell, he will too.

Maybe it’s that thought that does it, or the way Dean can’t hold on any more and blurts out a broken “Sam!” that drags him over, drains him of everything and leaves him slumped and breathless over his brother.

Dean’s quivering beneath him, sucking in gulps of air, but his voice hitches as he says “Impala, Sam, fuck, get off.”

They were already done, but that word spurs Sam. He sits up and hurriedly tugs Dean’s jacket free. He tosses it, and then undoes the blindfold from around Dean’s head.

They’re both stiff and sore as Sam turns him over, and he knows his concern is showing on his face from the look he gets in return.

But still, Dean seems unsure, and there’s an edge there that Sam doesn’t like at all.

It takes him a moment to be able to speak.

“You ok?”

Dean nods, Sam stares harder, and that elicits words. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We ok?”

This response is quicker, more certain. “Always. Except….”

Sam’s pretty sure his heart stops but he needs to know if despite his planning he’s crossed some line here. “What? What is it, Dean?”  


Dean sits up and grabs a fistful of Sam’s shirt and tugs him into a kiss. He breaks away long enough to jerk his head towards the door to the en-suite bathroom.

“You better clean up the mess you made.”

Sam brings his forehead to rest against Dean’s, can’t help the idiot grin he knows is forming on his face. “So damn needy.”

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt: _Dom Sam craves a submissive Dean and asks his brother to indulge him in his secret fantasy of taking Dean against his will and using him up however he likes._
> 
>  
> 
> _Dean is kind of freaked out by the request, but it's Sam - and he'll do anything for his brother._
> 
>  
> 
> _Where this goes is completely up to the anon. Con/dub/non - anything is fine. As long as Sam is very forceful and, strengthwise particularly, Dean is totally out of his league._


End file.
